A Walk In Time
by Hot n' Exotic
Summary: One-shot. Reality has taken over Jesse and Suze's fairytale romance. Jesse's POV.


**A/N: Okay, I don't know what got into me, so please don't ask. I just got tired of Physics and I had my laptop beside me so…yeah. Anyway, enjoy. :D**

**--**

I walk. No destination, no purpose, I just walk.

Around me, everyone is rushing around. Cakes from the bakery, turkeys from the butcher's, gifts from the gift shop – everyone has something to purchase. The air is laden with the crunching sounds of shopping bags and the buzz of people.

I don't bother to walk into any of the shops. What would I do, anyway? Buy presents? I laugh humourlessly to myself. _'For whom?'_ I wonder. There is nobody left for me to surprise with my tokens of love. Nobody from whose eyes I would be pleasured to see the happiness and gratefulness radiating after I give them my present.

The snow crunches under my feet as I walk on. That and my occasional huffs are the only sounds I allow into my system. I filter out the 'wishes of the season's that are being thrown about and the urgent revs of the cars as they get stuck in the rush.

She never did like this time. Overloaded her ears, she used to say. All those merry carols and tinkling bells used to form a distractive racket for her. Not to mention the cold wetness of the weather which caged her inside the house, away from the beach she so loved to sunbathe in.

I never got the truth in her words until now. Shivering, I dug my gloved hands deeper into my jacket pocket and hunched my once-broad shoulders to keep the cold away. I keep my eyes on the dark concrete sidewalk under my feet.

Turning my still downcast eyes to the glass of one of the shops beside me, I see the reflection of several little colourful fairy lights hung around the doorway. Blinking on and off in a beautiful rhythm of their own.

I pause and look up from their reflection to the actual lights. They bring my mind back, fifty years back. It feels like an eternity since then, almost as if it had never occurred.

I see a small hall, filled with several teenagers, all dressed in formal suits. A typical high school dance. Those fairy lights…they are twinkling all around us. I remember the awe I felt, seeing them then, my first time ever. An aged man with snow-white hair, a priest from the looks of his attire, is standing at the doorway. As he smiles at me and shakes my hand formally, I can feel the deeper connection between both of us. Like we are old friends. His gaze shifts from me to someone beside me. I follow his gaze and it lands on someone so beautiful and so pure, that, for the first time in my life, I feel truly blessed just to have her by my side. She smiles at me too, her full lips parting and curving up, just like a blooming rose.

The picture of those twinkling fairy lights reflecting in her soulful green eyes comes back to haunt me as I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up at those same cursed lights mocking me as they sparkle merrily. I feel the bile rise up my throat. The familiar sensation of my eyes stinging overcomes me. It is a sensation I have been feeling a lot these past few years.

I try to suppress it in me but I can't. I don't have the strength I once had. The strength she used to secretly admire me for.

A single, traitorous tear escapes from my eyelid and makes its way down my wrinkled cheeks, leaving a shiny trail behind it. I hastily wipe it away, and start walking again.

"Yo, Mr. de Silva!"

I look up at the sound of my name and smile slightly. The twenty-year-old man waving at me from his bicycle always has that effect on me. Maybe because he reminds me of…what used to be. Of the beginning of my life. Life. Something which my existence is devoid of now.

He cycles towards me and stops. His breath is coming out in short pants. I raise my eyebrows at him, still smiling slightly.

"Yes, Ryan, good evening to you too," I say.

He grins. "So watcha doing out here alone, Mr. de Silva? Why dontcha join me for a bottle o'—"

I frown disapprovingly at him. "Ryan, you know the doctor told me--"

He laughs, his strong youthful voice warming my cold frail body. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Mr. de Silva. I was kidding. Wouldn't risk your life for a million bucks. How's Mrs. de Silva, by the way?"

My breath hitches. My chest suddenly seems too small to fit my organs. The way she is mentioned so casually by the young man in front of me, gives me hopes for a fraction of a millisecond. Like she is alive again. Alive and here for me to love and hold again.

The fanciful hopes evaporate just as soon as they had come. Of course, she isn't alive. She passed away a long time ago, taking half of my soul with her as she went.

And once someone dies, there's no coming back.

'_How ironic_,' I think. '_Me of all people thinking that._'

"She's fine," I say, giving the conventional answer to that question. "Send my wishes to Andrea."

His eyes, dancing with the energy of youth, light up at the mention of his lover's name. I had always found the words 'girlfriend' and 'boyfriend' very vulgar. 'Lover' did a lot more justice to the true sense of the expression.

"I will, thanks. She's coming over for dinner tonight. _I'm_ preparing dinner," he adds proudly, gesturing to the shopping bags hanging from the handlebars of his bicycle. "We're gonna have a blast." He winks at me, still grinning.

I shake my head and roll my eyes at him, pretending to be disapproving. Inside, though, I envy him. I envy and long for his happiness. I long to be part of his world.

"But I still have time if you want to hang, Mr. de Silva," he added.

I smile fondly at him. He is the only ray of light in my existence now and I want to spend as much time as I can with him. But I am afraid to dampen his life with my melancholy presence.

I shake my head. "Its okay, Ryan. I'll be fine. You go 'have a blast'," I say, making quotation marks in the air. "Merry Christmas."

"Alright then, Mr. de Silva. Call me up, though, if you feel lonely or something. I'm sure it gets dreary up there. Merry Christmas! Send my wishes to Mrs. de Silva," he says, cycling off.

I wave at him and then dig my hands into my pocket again. The brightly lit alternate universe that Ryan had brought me into kicks me out as soon as he goes off. I am back in my own world again.

Before I know it, I am in front of a huge white Victorian mansion. My legs have carried me here even though my mind was unconscious of it. Coming here is an instinctive action for me. In medical terms, it would be called a reflex action. I feel lonely and the reflex is to come here.

I climb up the front steps and walk into the foyer where a young woman is sitting at the front desk. She looks up at me and smiles. I am on first name basis with all the staff here.

"Hey, Jesse! Merry Christmas! Come to wish her, have you?" she says, giving me a friendly smile.

I smile back at her. "Merry Christmas to you too, Sam. Yeah, I've come to see her. How is she today?"

"She's been fine the whole day. She had fun feeding the fishes," replies Sam.

I nod at her and then, with a wave, I walk as fast as my legs will allow to the elevator. Once in the floor of her room, I go to her room.

Opening the door slowly, I peek in. A woman is sitting by the huge bay window, watching the street below. She jumps at the creak of the door and looks at me with fright. My eyes sting again.

I put my friendliest smile on and greet her, "Hello. How are you?"

Her fright changes into confusion. "Umm…I'm fine…thank you," she says, a slightly annoyed expression on her face. I must have disturbed her.

My cold heart warms a little. Her nature has not changed at all throughout the years.

I walk in, keeping the door open. She seems to relax because of that. I take in her sight. Even now, fifty years later, she is the most beautiful creature I have ever set my eyes on. Her large green eyes look at me with the same annoyed expression that she looked at me with, the first time we ever met. The day that the gods decided to make me the luckiest man in the world.

My own brown eyes water up. As I gaze into those unchanged eyes, the wrinkles around them fade away and the white eyebrows roofing them turn into a rich chestnut shade. And I once again see the sixteen-year-old girl whose image will forever be imprinted in my heart. The sixteen-year-old impetuous, beautiful girl who walked into her womanhood with me by her side.

"Susannah," I whisper, her angelic form blurred by my tears. I don't make any move to wipe them away. I do not feel ashamed to show my weakness in front of her.

She seems confused and flustered. "Susannah? Who's that? Who are _you?_ I—um, oh, please stop crying! " she exclaims. Her hands go to her hair, clutching at it like a madwoman.

And I know I should stop crying now, before she becomes worse. I am a little too late however.

The lovely aged woman in front of me, the woman who is my world, starts screaming, still clutching at her hair. I widen my eyes as she comes at me starts hitting me. I fend her off as gently as I can; getting hurt myself but not allowing any pain to befall her.

I am still crying as a couple of nurses run in and pry her off me. Her frantic screams are mingled with the nurses' voices trying to calm her down and my own cries of "Susannah!"

She is taken out finally, and I am left to wallow in my own misery. I don't know how much time passes before the door opens and a young doctor comes in.

He sighs. "Mr. de Silva," he starts wearily.

"I know, you don't need to tell me," I whisper stonily, staring at the wooden floor. The tears are threatening to come out.

He is silent for a moment. Then he speaks again. "Mr. de Silva, I know how hard this is on you. But, really, you must know better. It's been four years already that she's been here. And I told you then, I'm telling you now, her condition will become worse with time. You can't just come and spring on her, you know."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I did not _spring on her_," I said coldly.

"You know what I mean, Mr. de Silva. Just be careful next time. You have to with a patient of Alzheimer's. Merry Christmas, Mr. de Silva," the doctor says, and strides out of the room.

I stand there for a moment, staring after him. Then, I do the only thing I feel like doing.

I get out of the haunted house and walk.

Just walk.

--

**A/N: Hehe. :D **

**Ironic that I'm writing this angsty piece, actually. Since around me, its all fireworks and love and joy and all that jazz. This festival called Diwali is going on and it drives me crazy. *rolls eyes***

**Anyway, please review!**


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